Simple Things
by WildCherry45
Summary: AU; Complete! A mysterious man and a street corner. Written for NH but can be read for any couple.


Title: Simple Things

Author: WildCherry45

Notes: Loosely based on a true story about an actual street corner in New York City.

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'_When the dust settles and the winds subside, would you help me rip this thorn from my side? We'll drive it deep down into all our failures in life._' – Charlie Mars

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He never looks up.

In the 17 days that she's watched him, never once has she seen him look up or catch anyone's attention. He simply stands there, his clothes clean, his hair undone but still crisp and cut, on the street corner, inches away from the brick wall but not yet touching the shadows that lie behind him, threatening to consume him.

It's not a busy street corner though it was relatively well known. It connected two streets, one heralding the entrance to the big city and one that ended the suburban neighborhood.

She passes by him everyday, intrigued with him with each growing look. Like others, she didn't notice him at first. He never spoke or created a distraction so she never found any reason to spare him any notice. However, one day, she walked by him, like every other day on her way to work and nearly tripped over the sidewalk. A strong hand caught her before she tumbled down onto the concrete below her. It quickly withdrew itself as soon as she regained balance.

That was the first day that she noticed him. He didn't look at her and even after her whispered 'thank you', he still did not look up or even signify that he heard her admission.

After that day, she always watched him as she walked pass. She started to notice the little things like how his hands were always stuffed in his pockets and how though he was shrouded in the shadows, he never quite touched the wall. He wasn't a random homeless person because he never asked for any money. He wasn't poor because his clothes were modest and always clean.

He was a complete enigma.

Some days her suspicions grow out of control and she begins to think he is a government plant or someone sent from outer space to watch and observe the human race. These passing follies fade away with the passing days and her curiosity grows.

The more she watches him, the more she realizes that there was a familiarity in his stature, reminding her of a few remnants of the past.

She's created a story for him now based on that simple reality. When she sits at work, her head in her open palm, her brown eyes glazed over as she daydreams, she fabricates a past for him. Some days she's romantic and thinks to herself that maybe he's waiting for someone, his soulmate perhaps. Other days, she tells herself that he's a quiet artist that simply observes for his studies and experiments.

Her stories for him range from day to day, always different and always altering.

She's never gotten the nerve to ask him just what his story truly was however. So, when she was bored with his story, she began to pay more attention to his surroundings. The sidewalk area around him was always quiet, never bustling, not even during the busiest hours of the day. The sun never shines in the direction of the corner therefore always leaving him in the shadows.

She sees sometimes that money lies at his feet, she assumes from passerbys that believe he is needy. He never reaches down to pick up the money, however, which she found odd but with her growing fascination, she soon found other fragments of him to focus on.

Its winter now and he still stands there. His clothes are thicker now and he wears a jacket and on occasion, a hat and a scarf. He still doesn't look up, not even as a gust of wind blows in his direction. He doesn't shiver and he doesn't cough. He doesn't react whatsoever.

She knew that she should leave him alone and let him wait his days out in peace for whatever he was longing for but she was never the type to stand idle. So, with a cup of her famous homemade chicken noodle soup in her hands, she walks up to him and whispers a few calming words to him. She cracks a few jokes but he doesn't laugh.

She coughs uncomfortably and sets the noodle soup on the ground, noticing for a first time in the cold New York snow that there were small holes in the freshly fallen snow, fairly reminiscent of tear drops.

Pushing away her delusions, she walks away, never noticing him taking off his gloves.

The synthetic light from the street lamp reflected off the golden wedding band and onto the pure white snow lying at his feet. Still, he does not look up nor does he pick up the soup that she's left.

He simply twists the wedding band around his ring finger.

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End file.
